


Leverage

by Elisexyz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Pregnancy, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 19:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13553640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: “I apologize for the— uncomfortable arrangement,” he says, and his apologetic tone is almost comical. If you just listened to him talking, you would think that hewasn’tthe one in charge of the whole thing.





	Leverage

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to a prompt on Tumblr: [“About the baby… It's yours.” + Biospecialist](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/170427867874/if-youre-still-doing-the-prompts-35-about-the). It got too long so instead of ending up in my ficlets collection it became a one-shot. I also kinda chopped off half of the sentence in the prompt, but the meaning is still there so it's not _exactly_ cheating u.u  
>  It's a s03-ish AU, in my head it kinda implies more involvement between Ward and Jemma than what happened in canon (besides the one-night stand that's necessary for the pregnancy), but you can read what you want into it.

She fights against the restraints, in spite of the sharp pain that announces that she’s starting to damage the skin around her wrists and in spite of the knowledge that she’s not getting out of there that easily.

She swallows, trying to calm herself down. She’s been undercover in Hydra, she’s looked at death right in the eye— she’s survived _far_ worse than Grant Ward. There’s no reason to get so worked up over his petty kidnapping.

Granted, she doesn’t know what the hell he wants from her, which is pretty frightening, but it’s not like she’s ever gotten an accurate read on him. Not accurate enough to figure out what’s up between them at least, why he seems to inevitably keep gravitating towards her.

Her eyes fall on her stomach. It’s still flat, but she knows that it’s not only her life that’s at stake anymore. It doesn’t help with her nerves.

Finally, the door creeks open. She hates herself for the relieved breath she takes.

But at least Ward is someone she knows to an extent, someone that she could at least _try_ to talk out of hurting her. That’s more than she could hope for in some stranger.

“I apologize for the— uncomfortable arrangement,” he says, and his apologetic tone is almost comical. If you just listened to him talking, you would think that he _wasn’t_ the one in charge of the whole thing.

“What do you want?” she spits out, trying to put as much disgust as she can in each word.

“Nothing you can give me,” he assures, stepping closer to move a lock of her hair away from her face. His touch is familiar, gentle like the smile he’s offering her, and when Jemma pulls away, as much as the restrains will allow her, she doesn’t know if she’s more disgusted by the fake gentleness or the bit of comfort that she draws from the familiarity of his hands.

“Why am I _here_?” she insists.

He lets his arm fall against his side as he sighs. “I need a small favour from Fitz. Unfortunately, he’s not being— cooperative.”

God, so Fitz has been kidnapped too. That’s just _wonderful_.

Another man enters the room. Jemma has never seen him before, but he’s carrying a bag of tools that makes her stomach twist and her throat constrict.

“I don’t enjoy this,” Ward assures, his expression apologetic. “Truly. I personally wouldn’t be able to— I couldn’t hurt you. But Fitz needs an incentive, so I called back-up.”

Jemma doesn’t bother masking her horror and fear. Hell, she’s not sure she could if she _wanted_ to. Ward may not have used the word ‘torture’, but that’s what is about to happen to her. To _them_.

She struggles against her panic to get the words out as Ward leaves, after caressing her face as if he actually _cared_ —

“No, wait— You can’t—” she manages to let out, but her voice is thin and he’s walking away pretty fast. “Ward—” she calls, more clearly. She swallows, takes a breath— “Grant!” she insists. “Please, wait, I’m— I’m pregnant!”

At that, he stops. She’s trembling, and she doesn’t know if it’d be best for him to notice or not. Her eyes keep running back to the bag of tools that the man laid on the table, ready to be used.

Her heart is beating frantically as she adds, softly: “It’s yours.”

He’s now staring at her, and the surprise on his face would probably enter the top five most honest expressions she’s ever seen him wearing. They just stare silently for a few seconds more, then Ward turns his full body in her direction, wiping his face clean. “Out,” he orders to the man, who, much to Jemma’s relief, is gone in a matter of seconds.

Ward paces around the room a couple of times before walking up to her.

“Is it true?” he asks, searching for her eyes.

“Of course it is,” Jemma spits out, outraged. “I wouldn’t lie about—” _Our baby_. God.

She’s been trying not to think about her child’s father, she thought she could just— The plan was keeping it to herself, letting everybody assume that that night spent in a bar ended with a random one-night stand. Many wouldn’t consider it dignified, let alone _responsible_ , but it’s better than the truth.

But now she has no choice but to take responsibility for her foolishness that night. She finds herself revisiting her steps in that bar, thinking about how when he just showed up next to her and ordered himself a drink, offering a truce, she could have just _called_ someone, she could have at least _tried_ to bring him in or take him out.

She knows that she didn’t stand half a chance in a frontal fight, even without taking into account how emotionally beaten she felt after her really unsuccessful talk with Fitz. But still, maybe she should have tried – yet, she can’t bring herself to regret the new life growing inside her.

“Okay,” he says, softly. He kneels in front of her, in a twisted parody of a proposal. “I believe you.”

“ _Good_.” It probably doesn’t come out as venomous as she would have liked.

“This— this changes things,” he says, licking his lips thoughtfully.

“How?” she scoffs. “Are you going to pay child support?”

Ward pauses, waiting for her to look at him in the eyes. “I’m going to protect you— you both,” he says. He sounds so _earnest_ , and it’d be so _easy_ to believe him. Unfortunately, she knows better. Or she’s supposed to.

“I can’t raise this child with you,” she says. It comes out gentle, an indulgence to that part of her that’s still fooling herself into believing that he feels _something_ for her. The truth probably isn’t the smartest play, considering that technically he could still have her tortured if he got mad.

“I’m not letting you walk away and get in trouble,” he retorts. “You’re staying here. You’re still my prisoner, technically,” he adds, playfully. He even throws in a grin for good measure.

Jemma licks her lips, taking a breath. “Let Fitz go,” she negotiates. “Let him go, and I’ll stay here for the duration of the pregnancy.”

She’s pretty sure that he won’t let her walk out of here either way, so she might as well get something out of it. And, at least in the privacy of her own head, she can admit that maybe it won’t be the worst thing to ever happen to her. Ward can be gentle when he wants to be, and if she’s lucky his possessiveness will be enough to make him keep good on his promise. Not to mention that things have become uncomfortable since when she had to tell Fitz that they don’t want the same thing out of their relationship.

Still privately mourning the loss of Will, feeling the absence of her best friend by her side, overwhelmed by the thought that she’ll soon be a mother to Grant Ward’s child— Maybe a change of scenery could do her some good.

Ward thinks it over just for a couple of seconds before smiling. “Deal,” he announces. He’s quick to free her hands, and he takes them into his to assess the damage done to her wrists. “I’ll clean this up,” he says. Jemma enjoys the softness in his voice a bit more now that at least she isn’t physically restrained. “My turn to play doctor.”

This time, when he delicately moves her hair to get a better look at her face, she lets him.

She can still run away at the first opportunity, after all.


End file.
